Shepherds keep
by Borneman
Summary: During the time of the battle of Helm's Deep, another story unfolds on the outskirts of the Firien forest. Elinoire, the last of her family of shepherds, has fled from the destruction of her village. When a battle between passing orcs and riders of Rohan takes place not far from her hiding place, she heads out to the field hoping to find survivors. Complete
1. The survivor

_The survivor._

The sheep that had once graced peacefully on the plains beyond the Firien wood where now reduced to some dozen animals hiding in the forest. The family that had herded them for generations over the fields of Rohan and Anorien, reduced to one lone member, living in solitude in a cave by the slow waters of the Mering stream. The cave was not damp, nor unpleasant. Created naturally on the top of a small hill east of the stream, its roof was made of two large slanted overgrown rocks, its presence almost undetectable unless you happened upon the small wooden door facing the stream. The smoke from the fireplace inside mixed with the morning mist that formed around the outskirts of the forest. It was not unlike a hobbit hole, but since men had always inhabited it, it did not have the same snug feeling; it had more of a homely practicality about it.

Inside the cave had the same shape as a simple tent strung up between two threes, with the highest point in the ceiling three meters of the floor and rugged walls slanting down. A well-crafted benchtop over a row of cupboards run along the left inner wall, cut to fit the unevenness in the rock. The bench curved to include the narrow end wall. Mostly made up of boulders, the gaps had been filled in with dry turf and covered with a mixture of chalk and mud to create an almost smooth surface.

By the right wall, a beautifully carved bed with soft sheep hides and knitted blankets was the largest piece of furniture in the simple home. It was never intended for such a small room, but had been a wedding gift some generations ago, when there was a bedchamber worthy of such an extravagant furnishing.

A stone fireplace, partly carved, partly built into the rock wall beside the entrance gave warmth and light. A cast iron pot hung over the slow burning fire, and on the hard trampled earth that made the floor of the cave stood two buckets of water. One other source of light, a simple iron chandelier hung from a chain bolted to the ceiling.

It had not always been a home. Once just a simple place for shepherds to stay in the summer months, it had now turned into a refuge for the last living member of the Hyrder household of Rohan. Orcs and Uruk-hai had raided through their village, and being too far from Edoras to reach it on foot, Elinoire of house Hyrder had fled to Shepherds keep; the only other safe place she could think of.

Her home burned down with her parents still inside it, the stench of burnt flesh had stung in her nostrils as she and other villagers had fled out in an unorganized turmoil. She doubted that the other survivors had made it to Edoras before they were hunted down. During the months she had stayed in Shepherds keep, she had seen no other men.

Now she stood on the moss-covered roof of her new home, with the mountains and the forest to her back, she was facing the vast plains and looking down river. She could often hear the faint metallic echoes of battle and the neighing of horses. The Rohirim where fighting the fractions of orcs and Uruk-hai that roamed the plains, but she could never be sure who came out victorious, because they were never so close that she could make out the men.

Today however, they were drawing closer towards her. She could see the riders driving what seemed like a black mass of insects between them. However, the black mass was greater in number, and one by one, the horses with the men on them disappeared into the mass. Elinoire stood frozen in place, even though she knew her silhouette could easily be spotted against the pale evening sky, she could not move or keep herself from watching. She did not feel horror or fear; those strong feelings had passed long ago. She felt a faint melancholy, a certainness that her time, and the time of men, soon where over.

The sun had set, but the noise from the slaughter kept on in the dusk. Although the black mass did not move further towards Shepherds keep, but past it and away from the riverbank, Elinoire stayed on the roof until it became too dark to see.

The morning after, Elinoire had not expected to wake. She imagined that her home would be broken into, and herself slaughtered, her blood staining the white sheep hides in her grandmother's bed. For a good while she just laid still looking at the rock above her, the cool light that came in through the cracks by the door was the only indication of dawn. She did not want to open the door, thinking dead bodies would lay all the way from her door to the riverbank.

Yet as she stepped out into the cool morning, all she could see was dewy grass and rocks, and the Mering flowing past in its usual calm manner. The nights would soon be so cold that the water droplets in the grass would freeze before morning, and she would have to keep the fire going all night to stay warm.  
She wanted to gather the few sheep that where left and build them a shelter for winter, but she could not fathom where to begin. She could not carry the logs required for the shelter by herself, not to mention that the sheep had nearly turned feral by now. In addition, it would be foolish to draw more attention to her hiding place by building a visible structure close by. Maybe if she built one in the Firien forest?

The sun had risen high in the sky and dried the morning dew; still she stood with the back to the door, forcing herself to think of how to build a shelter for the sheep, dreading what lay behind the slopes of her home. With a deep breath to steady herself she marched back up the small slope from the riverbank, the hem of her brown skirt brushing through the grass. Inside she grabbed a well-worn leather satchel from the benchtop, fastened a long bladed knife in her belt and braided her straw-coloured hair to keep it out of her eyes.

As she climbed onto the hill that made the roof of her home the wind changed slightly, and a disturbingly familiar stench filled the air. Not many yards away, dark bodies lay strewn in the green and golden grass; some plaices the white and grey bodies of fallen horses lay like light smooth rocks in the ocean. The sun glimmered in helmets and weapons drawn in vain, the red blood of men mixed with the thick almost black blood of orcs. As Elinoir observed the carnage bellow her, she could not extinguish the hope that she would find riders that had survived. She had never ventured out to a battleground before, but this was so close. In the back of her mind, she had a wish to bury the dead, but if any scouts came back and noticed that riders where buried, they would surely search the area and find her. Nevertheless, she would say the proper prayers to ensure safe passage to the afterlife. They died in battle, a heroic death, and she wished to treat them thereafter.

As she made her way between the dead, she tried to avoid coming to close to the orcs. Their grotesque faces made her uneasy, as if they could come back to life if she disturbed them. In between the orcs and the men lay a few Uruk-hai, they had undoubtedly been leading the raid, heading for Edoras. She could not imagine any other villages that could still be standing. Now surrounded by death, she suddenly felt more alone than ever. The sun was high, and the smell of dead flesh increased with every passing moment, making her position almost impossible to bear. Certain that she had prayed over every rider of Rohan, she turned to go back, being careful again not to walk to close to the dead orcs, and taking detours to avoid having to step over any bodies. This resulted in her exiting the battlefield closer to the forest than she had entered it.

Elinoire stopped in her tracks. By her feet one of the bodies moved. A small, almost undetectable movement, like an involuntary twitch. She stood still like a rock, holding her breath, waiting for something to grab her leg or put a blade through her. Nothing happened. She looked down, and fear showered through her body like icy water. There lay an Uruk-hai, the white mark of Sauroman painted on his face. His hair was thick with blood and dirt, his skin was a reddish black. His armour was an unsymmetrical creation of steel and leather, ruined by a gaping wound below his ribs. He still held a large heavy sword in hand, but his helmet was gone, most likely kicked off by the horse of the rider who cut him down. His chest was rising and falling soundlessly, and the movement she had seen was his fist clenching and opening around his sword, as if he was trying to lift it even now.

Elinoire had never killed anything but fowl and rabbit in her life, and even though she knew the right thing to do would be to draw her small blade and plant it in the chest of this beast, she could not move. Suddenly his eyes flew open, and she stared into two dark yellow pits. Elinoire ran as if she had looked into the eyes of evil itself.

Elinoire did not turn her head until she was almost back to the hill that made the roof of her home. If the Uruk-hai was following, she did not want to lead him to her shelter, but rather turn right and run into the forest. Even in fear she had the mind about her to think clearly, however when she glanced over her shoulder, nothing was following her. The dead lay as before, there was no sign of life.

Back inside the keep, she bolted the door behind her and sunk down on the hard floor, trying to calm her beating heart. The Uruk-hai's wound had been deep; if she waited until next morning, he would surly die during the night. Still she could not be sure, and she could not decide if she should go back or stay inside and wait it out.

With a resolve she had not felt in a long time, Elinoire got to work. She peeled the bedding of her bed and covered the mattress with an old worn woven blanket. She filled the iron pot with water and made a fire to get it boiling. In one of the cupboards she found strips of old linen that her mother once had made ready as bandages, wrapped around a small clay pot containing balm. Along with what little sewing equipment she had, Elinoire put the items on the countertop. The axe she used for cutting wood hung on a nail by the door, and on her way out she stuck it in her belt together with her knife.

"I must have fallen into madness" she muttered out loud as she headed back out on the field.

She had no trouble finding the wounded Uruk-hai. He lay on the edge of the battle nearest the forest, still breathing but his fist now limp around his sword. She should leave him there to die, nothing good could come from this. Then again, she had waited on her end to come since spring, certain it would come. Maybe by a sword or arrow, sickness or starvation, but chances where she would be dead by next spring anyway. If she died while showing kindness, even a foolish kindness, maybe the gods would show here mercy in return.

"Can you hear me?" She said as she knelt down by him, her knife drawn. Once again, he opened his eyes slowly, as if it took a lot of effort. They had a colour unlike anything she had seen before; they were cold, but still so bright that they pierced through her very soul. She pitied the people whose last sight in life had been these eyes.  
He pulled back his lips and snarled at her with sharp teeth like an animal, unable to raise his sword; he tried to raise his fist. To Elinoire's astonishment, she could pin down his arm as if he was a child.  
"Please be still, I do not wish to harm you" She took away his sword, a rough blade about the size of her leg, and put it at a distance he could not reach. She put down a course rug on the ground beside him. Her father had used it to throw over the horses on cold nights. With some effort, she rolled the Uruk-hai over twice so he was on his back on the rug. He made several growls of pain, but did not have enough energy resist her actions.

Then started the long walk back to Shepherds keep, as she dragged the Uruk-hai on the rug behind her. The distance took her mere minutes without her burden, now the sun had started to set as she made it down the slope to the door of the keep. She was drenched in sweat, and she had emptied the flask of water in her satchel before she was halfway back.

The fire had died out, but the water was still warm. She took some gulps of water from the bucket before she started the fire again and set on the task of getting the now unconscious Uruk-hai into the bed.

When she had finally hauled him into the bed, Elinoire stated to take of his armour. It stuck to his skin with dried blood and dirt, but she managed to get it over his head and on the floor with a heavy thud. His chest was dark and grimy, but she could not see any other wound than that bellow his right ribs. After washing it thoroughly she discovered that it was not as deep as she first had thought. The blow to his head must have knocked him out, and the wound would have drained him of blood while he lay unconscious.

The Uruk-hai only twitched slightly while she stitched the edges of the wound back together, his lips pulled back into a permanent snarl without sound. She washed as much of his body as she could reach. His legs where bare, save the rough boots she had taken off and placed neatly by the foot of the bed. She let the loincloth under his heavy leather armour be. She did not think the Uruk-hai had any concept of dignity, nevertheless she would try to preserve as much of it as possible. His long dark hair left a grimy pattern on the pillow, and she wished she could wash it as well. Except it would be difficult to do while he was unconscious, so she let it be.

Elinoire had hard time getting the bandages under his back to cover his wound, but after a lot of pulling and tugging, she was finally happy with the result of her work. Her unwilling patient was either asleep or unconscious, she could not tell. In any case, when he woke she thought she should have something ready for him to eat. She had heard stories of orcs eating the flesh of the men they had slain, though she did not know much about the Uruk-hai, she did not wish to risk being alone with a hungry one, however badly wounded.

If she had caught anything in the snares she set in the forest yesterday morning, she could perhaps make a simple rabbit stew with potatoes and carrots. The two only things she had managed to grow in a sunny spot just beyond the first tree line of the forest. She took both her knife and axe with her, not wanting to leave any weapons behind with the Uruk-hai.

The air was clear and soothing as she set out into the dusk. The forest was as it had always been, alive and still at peace. Out on the field ravens and other birds of prey and death had started feeding on the dead bodies of men and orc. She stopped between the two berry bushes she used to mark her entrance to the forest, looking towards the birds gathering in the field. She had hoped to find a survivor in that carnage, and she had.


	2. The awakening

_The awakening_

When he opened his eyes again, his head felt like a rock, his whole body ached and an unfamiliar stinging pain shot up from his right ribs. His vision was blurry, but he thought he was inside a cave. A warm light shone down on him from several candles hanging from an iron ring above him. The cave smelled of thyme and cocking rabbit meat, something he had only ever eaten raw. He could not feel his weapon by his side and tried to turn his head to look for it.

Elinoire turned as she heard the Uruk-hai move; she stood up from the stool by the fireplace and took a cautious step towards him, his piercing eyes upon her. Neither of them moved any further, no other sound than the steady boiling of her stew on the fire was hearable.  
"How are you feeling?" Silence followed. "Do you speak the common tongue?" It dawned on Elinoire that she had not thought about the language barrier between them if he did not know the common tongue.  
"I do" his deep, raspy voice filled the cave like a dark wave. Elinoire was terrified, as if she just now realised what kind of being she had brought into her home. His eyes did not leave her, his suspicion and hostility towards her unquestionable. She cleared her throat with a nervous cough: "Are you thirsty? I am afraid I can only offer water" she gestured to the buckets behind her. It sounded so foolish in her high-pitched voice, like the squeal of a mouse. He said nothing.

She dipped a cup in the water bucket behind her, but instead of handing it to him; she brought her stool to the bedside and put the cup on it before she quickly backed away.  
"I have a stew cooking, with rabbit and potatoes. It will be ready soon if you are hungry" she did not dare to turn her back to him, and talking about such mundane things as supper made her calm down a little.

He looked at her for a while, then lifted the cup of water to his lips and poured it down in one large gulp. "More" he demanded, and Elinoire obliged. This went on for a couple of more cups until she brought him a plate of stew together with the water.  
"Please eat, you need your strength to recover" she regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. She doubted she would live long if he regained his strength. She stood as a pillar by the fire while he ate, his eyes never leaving her. She got the sense that he did not trust her, and the feeling was mutual.

"You were going to kill me" this was not a question, but a statement. His nostrils flared as he put the plate down on the stool. His nose was flat and wide, with the nostrils drawn up on the sides, it looked like it belonged to an animal.  
"I.. I.. No, it did not seem as the right thing to do" that was a lie, it would have been the right thing to do, but she had decided not to do it. To show kindness to something incapable of such feelings. "You were badly wounded, it would have been cowardly of me".

The Uruk-hai looked puzzled for a second. "You wish to kill me when I have healed?"  
"No, surly I would lose such a fight" her voice was shaking. She had not thought of what would happen if he recovered, she did not have a plan at all.  
"Yes, I would kill you" his voice sent chills down her spine. As if to make true of his statement he started to hoist himself up to get out of the bed. However, his concussion and dehydration made him loose grip on the side of the bed and he fell sideways towards the floor. Without thinking, Elinoire rushed forward and caught him mid fall. His arms were over her shoulders as she kneeled beside the bed supporting the full weight of his torso. She remained dumbfounded for a couple of seconds, her arms around him, palms resting on his scarred back. An annoyed grunt came from the Uruk-hai, and she quickly settled him back down on the bed.

"You are not strong enough yet, please rest" she smiled down at him with the same mild smile she had used to give her brother when he was sick. A foolish thing to do, but his eyes had clouded over, and although he was large, in that moment, he did not seem like the threat he were just before.  
"I'm Elinoire of house Hyrder, daughter of Bragor" her voice steadier now. She had not introduced herself, or even talked to anyone since she fled. "What do I call you?"  
"Maghûr" the Uruk-hai whispered as he sank back into unconsciousness.

When Maghûr woke up the following day, he felt like he had woken from an unclear hallucination. Again, he felt for his sword, but could not find it. There was a piece of bread and some cuts of rabbit meat on a plate on the stool by his head. He managed to sit upright in the bed, with his back against the richly engraved headboard. Engravings not unlike those in the many houses he had burned down. He must still be in Rohan.

The cave was empty, but the door was open to let daylight into the dark room. The sound of running water and the chirping of birds could be heard from outside, in addition to an irregular sound of splashing water. He remembered there being a human female there yesterday, she had fed him and spoken to him, but most of it was blurry.

It took a while for the room to stop spinning and the nausea to disappear so he could eat the food beside him. He had felt like this many times before, especially during some of the more brutal weeks of training in Isengard. He had never felt this weak however; then again, he did not know how long he lay wounded in the field. With that thought in mind, he peeled of the neatly wrapped bandages to assess the damage. His wound was stitched shut and the skin around it felt uncomfortably tight. The wound was sticky after being treated with some kind of grease. It made him angry that he could not remember that any of this had taken place. He had never not been in control of is environment, and the lack of control felt unnatural to him.

Elinoire entered the cave with a tub she had just used to wash her clothes. The sun shone behind her and created a halo of gold around her head, and reflected of a pair slanted yellow eyes looking at her from inside.

The female had stopped in the doorway as soon as she saw him. She was short for a man, but she still seemed strong, although not as strong as a rider of Rohan. She looked frightened by his presence.  
"You are awake. How are you feeling today?" She did not dare to meet his gaze.  
"Stronger" Maghûr answered. Elinoire simply nodded and walked past him and back to the counter where she put down the tub.  
"I see you have removed your bandages, would you allow me to give you new ones?" she hoped he could not hear her voice shaking.  
"We heal better without them" his voice filling the small space between them. "We are not weak like men"  
"No" she nodded again and tried to walk back past him, but he grabbed her arm.  
"Where have you hidden my sword?" his voice was if possible even darker and stronger, and had he tightened his grip just a little more he would have broken the bones in her arm. He was indeed growing stronger.  
"I have not hidden your sword; it remains on the field where I found you. I could not carry both" she met his gaze for the first time since she found him in the field. He could just pull her down and snap her neck, she was certain of it. He did not, but he did not let go either.

The sun shone in Elinoires face, making her pupils contract and the impact of the emerald green in her eyes greater than normal. They looked like two gems not unlike the ones dwarves mined in the depths of the mountains. Maghûr had never seen eyes like this before. He was mesmerised. She turned her face away from him, her eyes cast down. He could see the veins stretching in her neck through her pale skin. It would not require much force to cut her head off, if he had had his sword beside him. He loosened his grip on her arm, and she hurried out of the cave.

The next two days went by in the same way as the first. Maghûr sat awake in the bed, following her every move when she was in the keep, but never attempted to leave the bed while she was inside. Elinoire tried to spend as little time in the keep as possible, only coming in to make meals which they both ate in silence, she with her back to the wall.

At night, she slept on her bedding by the fire. At first, she thought she would never sleep soundly with an Uruk-hai in the room with her, but the second night she was so exhausted that she fell asleep anyway. Maghûr slept only lightly and in short intervals, his kind had never needed much sleep. He used the time to clear his head and piece together the events that had brought him here. After that rider had cut him down, he could only recall glimpses, mostly of this females face above him. However, he remembered some pain and the feeling of being dragged across uneven ground. If she was the one who had dragged him of the field, it could not be fare from this cave. Her motive was unclear; he could not understand the reason for her to want him alive. He was not a prisoner, there was no one else but her here, and although she seemed to fear him, she did not run away from him.

Elinoire did not know it, but every time she left the keep, Maghûr practiced walking around in the small room. When she left to check her snares in the forest, he walked down the small slope to the stream and back up. He was regaining his balance and strength, although the wound still felt tight and uncomfortable if he lifted his arms above his head.

One morning Elinoire filled the tub with hot water and put it on the countertop with a bar of soap and a cloth. She looked at the Uruk-hai and tried to find the right words to say, they had not spoken since the day he grabbed her arm.  
"Would you like to wash?" he looked at her with slight confusion. "Your hair is full of dirt and blood, and I could not manage to wash it when I washed y-" she stopped herself from completing the sentence.  
"You washed me" he was angry, not so much at her actions, more that he was reminded that he had been helpless at her hands. What was more, he could not remember it.  
"Yes, while I washed and mended your wound. Please I meant no harm" he had risen from the bed and towered over her. She held her arms protectively over her chest and neck, the rolled up sleeves of her blouse reviling a large bruise circling right above her left wrist. The sight of it left Maghûr with an uneasy feeling. He reached out toward her, Elinoire backed away until the small of her back was against the benchtop, she could not get any further away from him. Maghûr closed his hand around her arm, and the bruise fit perfectly inside it. He stood for a while, not understanding the feelings that surfaced inside him.

Elinoire was trapped, his body blocking the path to the door. She thought the Uruk-hai seemed confused as he stood mere inches from her, looking at his own hand around the bruise he had made. He was larger than any man she had ever met, and her own hand looked so small in his grip. She did not know if it was wise to speak again, but she felt the need to move away from him, and she did not know how he would react if she moved without warning.

"Maghûr" she managed to keep her voice from trembling. He looked up from her arm, but he did not let her go.  
"You know my name?" he was too close, he smelled of musk and earth, and the unmistakable rusty smell of blood.  
"You told me" she immediately regretted speaking. His eyes had become narrow, and an angry growl that seemed to start deep in his lungs filled the room. His grip on her was still loose. She ducked down beneath his arms and was at the door in three steps; she slammed it behind her and turned around expecting him to rip it open. It did not happen, but she could hear his growl turn to a yell inside the keep. By the door stood a woven basket that she used to carry potatoes, carrots and other roots. She picked it up and headed on towards the forest.

The absurdity of heading out on a mundane task like collecting potatoes when there was an angry Uruk-hai in her home with a bar of soap and hot water, which she had asked him to wash with, almost made her chuckle. Yes, she feared him. Nevertheless, she had not felt any feeling as strong for a long time, and it was in some way liberating.


	3. Warg rider

_Warg rider_

When Elinoire returned to Shepherds keep it was empty. Maghûr was nowhere to be seen, his boots and amour also gone. He had knocked down her neatly stabled firewood, and he had thrown the bed over, the mattress and woven rug on the floor. Yet the tub was still on the benchtop, and when she looked down in it, the water was dark with old blood and dirt.

She set on the task of tidying her home. She doubted he would come back, and changed back to her own bedding, intending to wash the ones he had used tomorrow. She rinsed out the tub in the stream, the dark water dissolving as it travelled down the clear stream from the mountains.

There was a flat rock on the slope between the keep and the stream. Her mother had always used to sit there when she peeled potatoes and carrots. It was a nice sunny spot, and it brought back memories of a happier time.

Maghûr had ventured down to the field to retrieve his sword and scavenge for other useful items. He rested on the hill beside the roof of the keep, watching as the female sat on a rock and peeled potatoes from a basket. In his mind, he knew he should turn around and start tracking what was left of his troops. They had been expecting to receive marching orders for Helm's Deep, and by all accounts, that was where they would start heading soon. However, he kept on watching the female in the sun.

Elinoire looked up as she heard something coming towards her. The now familiar feeling of fear spread through her body as she saw the Uruk-hai coming towards her with his sword in his hand. Even now, in his large fist the weapon looked unusually broad and long. It was dark and roughly made, and instead of a pointy end, the sword had a straight hook, probably designed to gut horses. She felt like a fool for thinking he would not come back. Of course he would, he would come to kill her. She sat motionless facing down the stream with the small knife in her lap, not acknowledging him until he was just a few steps away.  
"Maghûr" the sound of his own name sounded so foreign in her soft voice. He had never heard it spoken by others than orc and Uruk-hai.

He stopped right by her side; she did not look up but kept looking forward down the stream.  
"Your name" he demanded in a raspy deep voice. Elinoire was surprised, but did not lose her poise.  
"Elinoire"

"You always come back here. Still I know you fear me" he circled her once and stopped again on her other side.  
"I have no other place"  
"But you fear me?"  
"Yes. I fear you will kill me"  
"You brought me here. Why?" this Elinoire had struggled to find the answer to herself, and she did not know what to say. Because she was lonely? Because he was the only survivor she could find? Because she had a death wish? Because she had gone mad?

"If you fear I will kill you, why do you not run?" Maghûr had never encountered anyone who had not tried their best to either kill him or run from him.  
"I don't know" she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. "Because I'm tired, I have not felt anything but numbness for a long time. If anything, fear is still better than feeling nothing at all"

Maghûr stood directly behind her and looked down on her curved neck. He was tempted to bite into it to rip out a piece of her throat and taste the flesh while watching her bleed to death. It was a very satisfying way to kill. He struck his sword into the ground beside him, the sudden movement made Elinoire jolt upright. But she did not stand or turn her head.  
Maghûr kneeled down, and in one swift motion, he wrapped his right arm around her, locking her arms to her chest right above her elbows. The pressure forced the air from her lungs; she could only breathe in shallow gulps. His narrow lips brushed against her neck as he parted them to let his teeth sink into her flesh. Elinoire whimpered and gripped his arm, closed her eyes and tilted her head to bare her neck. Maybe she had a death wish after all. To die now, or during winter, did it make any difference?

Her small movements made Maghûr pause, his sharp teeth resting on her soft skin. He looked straight down on the bruise on her arm, as she _held on to him_. The peeling knife lay in her lap, right by her hand, but she had never tried to use it against him. He became aware of her breathing, how she struggled with it under his tight grip. Without thinking, he stuck out his tongue to taste her; she was warm and soft and tasted like firewood and clean air. He closed his mouth and let his lips rest against her skin, confused. He did not want to kill her, but he wanted something from her, he liked the feel of her warmth on his chest, holding her felt good. He pressed his face down on her neck, loosened his grip around her chest and wrapped his other arm around her waist, grabbing a fistful of the skirt by her hip.

There he stood, kneeling behind her while his whole body was in turmoil.

Elinoire did not know what was happening, but she did not want to move, and for the moment, she did not need to. The sky was clear except some light clouds, a breeze blew through the high grass around them, and she felt oddly at peace. They must have looked out of place, this great dark Uruk-hai warrior, gently holding on to a fair maiden of Rohan.

Even though none of them moved, Elinoire felt something change. She became very aware how close his left hand was to the buttons of her skirt, how warm his breath was against her neck. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she felt herself grow warm and heavy. Her breath caught in her throat, because she knew this feeling, and she knew how wrong it was. Even more wrong was the creature she was feeling it towards, because this was no man, this was an Uruk-hai, a soldier of the dark forces of Sauroman. Though however she tried, she could not stop her desire from growing stronger, clouding her mind.

Maghûr on the other hand, had never experienced these feelings before. He felt his breathing change and his blood rush through his limbs, but could not understand why. He had an urge to move his hands to feel more of the creature in his arms, and he wanted to put his lips on her skin again. He moved his head slightly and brushed his lips and teeth against her neck. This time a faint moan escaped Elinoire before she could stop herself, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The sound of her moan sent chills rushing through Maghûr, and he felt like all the blood in his body was concentrating in one spot. He let go of her skirt and shifted his palm over her lap onto her lower stomach. Elinoire caught his hand in hers, intending to stop it, but ending up leading it to the top of her thigh, his fingers only hindered by the fabric in her skirt. She held on to his hand for dear life, pressing it down on herself.

Manghûr could feel the heat coming through her skirt; he wanted to rip through it, instinctively knowing that he wanted to get through to what was underneath it. He growled a deep inhuman growl of desire, slightly biting down on Elinoire's neck.

If it was the growl or the sharp pain of his bite that woke her from her haze, she could not tell. Elinoire flung herself forward, out if his grip and onto the ground. She turned around to face him. He was crouching panting over the rock, his mouth in a snarl, his eyes glowing towards her in the sun. He looked like a beast.

"No" she yelled. "No, this is madness, this is unholy!" Her voice broke as she sunk down in the grass sobbing. She had gone from feeling nothing, to feeling too much in too short time. "Please leave" she looked up at him again, his mouth now closed, a frown on his forehead. "Please, I beg you to leave" Her eyes where wet with tears, some of her hair had come loose from her braid.

Maghûr did not want to leave. He wanted to stay, he wanted to continue, and he wanted to hear more of the sounds she made when he touched her. He wanted to pin her down in the grass, his intentions after that was unclear to him, but he did certainly not want to leave. There was no reason for him to adhere to her wishes.

"Please, end my life if that is what you wish, but leave me please" she was aching, her breathing uneven like she had been running.  
"I don't want to kill you" Elinoire thought it sounded like he had just now come to that realisation. He stood quiet and watched her cry for a while, unsure what to do, unsure of his own feelings.  
"You want me to leave?"  
"Yes" her voice wash shaking.

Maghûr had never done what anyone asked of him. Other than direct orders, he had never stopped in his desired actions, or spared the life of a child, an animal or family no matter how much someone begged for mercy. Now the heat had left him, her crying made him uneasy, like the sight of the bruise on her arm. As he loosened his sword from the ground and walked away up stream, Elinoire lay down and curled up in the grass, sobbing like a lost child.

Elinoire stayed on the ground until the shade of the mountains reached her and made it too cold to stay where she was. She gathered her things and bolted the door to the keep behind her. Exhausted from the events of the past few days, she immediately fell asleep on the soft bed.

Elinoire woke before dawn, the light still grey and the forest and stream covered in mist. She huddled towards the fireplace with a sheep hide over her shoulders to boil water. She crushed some of the dried herbs hanging by the fireplace into a cup. She missed having tea in the morning, but the apple mint leaves she had gathered made a tolerable substitute. While she sat by the fire waiting for her water to boil, her mind wandered back to the day before. She could still feel his hands, his breath, and his fingers tugging at her skirt. A numbing heat spread through her, making her body heavy. A part of her had wanted him to continue, she had even shamelessly led his hand. Another part knew how wrong it was, how those kind of feelings should be reserved for a husband, she knew this so well. Maghûr was not even human! She was so confused, her mind in turmoil and a burning sensation where his hands had been.

The sun had just reached the stream below Shepherds keep when she went outside. To cool down her burning cheeks and rid herself of the numbing heat in her body, she stripped down and went for a swim in the stream. The water was never deeper than her waist, meaning she had to duck down to wet her hair.

Maghûr had climbed a tree with a clear view of Shepherds keep. His eyes narrowed as he watched Elinoire take of her blouse, belt and skirt before stepping naked into the stream. He felt the same heat from yesterday spread through his limbs. He had wanted to rip through her clothing yesterday, and now he saw what he would have seen if he had done it. The sun shimmered in her wet skin as she bent over to rinse the soap from her hair.

Disappointment filled him when she dried herself and went back in to the keep. He wanted to run over the open ground and stream between them. He wanted to hear her moan; he had never heard such a perfect sound, and it still haunted him. Lost in thought he did not notice how much time passed before she emerged again.

Elinoire hung her satchel over her shoulder and headed for her two bushes by the edge of the forest. She had kept an eye on their berries for a while, and noticed that they had ripened. After she had picked berries, she planned to head further into the forest and look for mushrooms. She kept her back to the battlefield. She had heard wolfs during the night, and did not wish to take in the sight of the mangled bodies in the distance.

Maghûr was making his way through the undergrowth towards Elinoire. He could not resist the urge to be near her any longer, he wanted to hear her say his name. The wind changed, and the smell of her, firewood and soap, mixed with sweet berries filled his nostrils. Then came the faint stench of rotting flesh from the remains on the battlefield, and then yet another scent. He stopped in his tracks. Until now, he had walked steady behind the treeline, but now he leaped out on the plane. Maghûr started to run as he felt a new uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his belly.

The scent was from the warg of a scouting orc.

The sound of birds being scattered from the field behind her made Elinoire turn around. Dread washed over her as she saw what startled the birds. She had never herself seen a Warg rider, only heard tales of their ruthlessness. The small orc riding the warg was looking at the dead on the ground; the warg had its head to the wind, picking up the scents in the air. The rider made its way methodically across the battlefield, continuously getting closer to her. She started backing away between the bushes, wanting to hide behind their thick branches until the rider had passed through. She could not hear herself making any sound, but the warg did. The animal's head snapped up with a howl as it started sprinting towards her, faster than any horse she had ever seen. The orc riding it had a big grin on his face as he drew his curved blade ready to cut her down.

"Elinoire!" her name sounded like a war cry. Maghûr had crossed the stream merely 800 yards from her. He looked terrifying, sword drawn and his face in a grimace of pure anger. Elinoire dropped everything and ran towards him, the warg drawing closer twice as fast as she could run.

The orc looked confused as he spotted the Uruk-hai running towards his prey, but he could not stop the warg now. They beat the Uruk-hai to the fleeing human with mere seconds to spare. The warg flung her sideways before jumping over her, the claws of his front paw digging into her shoulder.  
Elinoire screamed in pain as the wargs claws ripped the flesh from her shoulder and chest. She tried to roll away, but the enormous weight of the animal on top of her pinned her down.

Her scream of pain fuelled Maghûr's anger as he leaped up with a powerful roar and planted his sword at the nape of the warg. The warg fell to the side, trapping his orc rider under it. Maghûr crushed his scull under his boot, a sickening series of cracking sounds before the orc's squeals where silenced.  
Elinoire lay on her side in agony, blood flowing into her hear and eyes. The pain was intense as she feebly tried to hold the strips of skin in place. She could not make any sound, her chest hurt with every breath.

Maghûr knelt beside her, his sword carelessly on the ground. Elinoire's blouse was drenched in blood, streaks where running down her neck and face and pooling in her ear. He pressed his hand over her wounds, trying to stop the flow. For the first time in his life, Maghûr felt helpless, he had never whished for anyone to live before today. Other Uruk-hai that where too wounded to carry on fighting were just left behind, he had little to no knowledge of healing wounds.

Elinoire looked up into a pair of bright yellow eyes, and remembered once pitying the people whose last sight in life had been these eyes. Now she did not mind if this was the last thing she ever saw; she found them hauntingly beautiful.


	4. Fever

_Fever_

She had smiled. Maghûr looked on in futility as her eyelids glided shut. He could still see her breathing, but it was strained and shallow. The walk back to Shepherds keep was awkward as he tried to hold her as carefully as he could, without losing his grip on her.

Embers where still glowing in the fireplace, offering some light in the dark keep. Maghûr needed to stop Elinoire's bleeding, and rummaged through the cabinets until he found what was left of the bandages she had used on him. He ripped her already torn blouse off her, four deep cuts run over her left shoulder, down to her breast and arm. Torn pieces of skin hung from the edges, revealing the flesh underneath. He could see the white of her collarbone. Even though he had seen much worse than this, even inflicted much worse than this, the sight of the wounds on _her_ gave him a sinking feeling in his guts.

He did a poor job with the bandages, but it stopped the bleeding. With one of the remaining bandages, he wiped the dry streaks of blood off her face. He could not stand the sight of them.

Night fell, but Maghûr did not sleep. Instead he sat by the fire, watching Elinoire breath, afraid she would stop. Her face was pale, but her checks grew hot and read.

Elinoire woke in a pool of sweat, her shoulder and chest throbbing with pain and her mouth dry like sand. Her chest lay bare, the few untidy bandages only covering her wounds. Instinctively she lifted her good arm to cover herself, she managed, but her arm felt unusually heavy.  
The bandages where stained brown with dry blood, they needed to be changed. However, as she tried to lift one, she discovered they had stuck to her wounds, making it too painful to manage by herself.

Maghûr stood by her bed in silence, a cup of water in hand. Elinoire did not have the strength to speak or lift her head; she just glanced at the cup before she closed her eyes again. Hesitantly he put the cup to her dry lips, most of the water went down the side of her mouth, but she managed to drink some.

"Did you clean my wounds?" Her voice was so weak, he almost could not hear her.  
"No" he looked down at her sweating forehead, her face flushed and pale at the same time.  
"They need to be cleaned, or they will start to rot" she suspected they already had. Maghûr did not move, "With boiled water" she added before falling back into a feverish sleep.

When she woke again, someone was stroking her with the palm of their hand, moving down her arm. Through the feverish fog, she could see two yellow eyes glowing above her.  
"Your skin is hot" Maghûr's dark voice rang in her ears.  
"Fever" she whispered.

Water was boiling on the fire; a pillowcase ripped to rags lay in a heap on the stool beside her. If not for the fever, the destruction of a perfectly good pillowcase would have annoyed Elinoire.  
Maghûr needed to lift her up and hold her to keep her seated while he removed the old bandages. She instructed him as best as she could, but the room kept disappearing from her eyes. She screamed every time he had to rip away a stuck piece of bandage, but her body did not have the energy to produce tears.

The deep lacerations had begun oozing a greenish puss, infected by the claws of the warg. Elinoire cried out in pain several times while Maghûr cleaned out the puss. Although he may have tried, he was not very gentle. She smeared the balm from the small jar on the wounds herself, not wanting to waste the precious medicine.

Elinoire slept for days, not knowing if it was night or morning the few times she woke to take a drink of water from the cup at her bedside.

Maghûr went back to the fallen warg and scout. He flung the orc out in the middle of the now decomposing battlefield. With a sword from a fallen rider, he cut off the orcs mangled head and threw it to the waiting vultures. No one passing through would be able to tell the scout from the other dead orcs.  
The warg he dragged far into the woods before he buried it underneath the root of a fallen tree, where the earth was still soft. He could not do much about the blood on the ground, but he hoped that if a search party came after the scout, they would not look too closely.

On the sixth evening after the attack, Elinoire woke to see Maghûr kneeling with his back against her, stacking newly chopped firewood. He was only wearing half of his armour, his scarred back gleaming in the light from the fireplace. His large figure seemed so out of place in the small room, and it was odd to see him perform such a normal chore as stacking firewood.

"Hi" her voice was coarse. Maghûr turned and stood up in one strong motion, towering over her.

"How long have I slept?" her stomach felt hollow with hunger.  
"Six sunrises have passed" after a brief pause he continued: "You have not fed"  
With that he went outside and returned with a skinned sheep's leg. He stood for a moment, before laying it in her lap.  
"I cannot eat raw meat" she smiled a weak apologetic smile at him. Something in his expression changed, and fearing that he would react with rage, she added "But I thank you, and I thank you for all you have done for me Maghûr" the sound of his name rolling of her tongue made him close his eyes for a moment, his nostrils flaring out.  
"You saved my life" she looked up at the chandelier, wondering what his motivation had been. Had he been a man she could have understood his obligation to return the favour, a life for a life. To her knowledge, the Uruk-hai had no such moral bearing.

"I do not wish for your death" he muttered while reaching for the sheep's leg on the blanket covering her.  
"Nor I for yours" her fingers brushed against his hand as he lifted the sheep's leg away. The touch had not been intentional; however, she lifted her hand slightly to extend the moment.

Maghûr cooked the meat the only way he could think of; he buried it under the hot ashes in the fireplace and let the wood on top burn down over it. It was a lengthy process, he never spoke or turned to look at Elinoire, but she could see him holding his fingers over where she had touched him.

When the meat had cooked through, he was unsure of how to give it to her. Normally he would eat it straight from the bone, but he doubted she would be able to lift the leg, let alone sit upright. He looked over at the sleeping Elinoire, her chest rising and falling under the blanket. He wanted to say her name; he wanted to touch her, he wanted to hold her like the day on the rock. 

"Food" Maghûr sat on her bedside with the cooked leg in his lap and a short sharp blade in his hand. She looked at him while he cut of a small piece of meat and held it against her lips, taking care not to cut her. Elinoire bit down, the meat tasted burnt, but it was better than eating it raw. Her jaw felt stiff as she slowly chewed the food. She could only manage four pieces before she had to stop him.

"You eat little" he sounded disapproving.  
"Do you think me weak?"  
"Mankind is weak" He bit down on the remaining meat, ripping of large chunks as he ate.  
Silence followed, his stare made her want to pull the blanket up to her chin.  
"Why did you stay here with me?" he shifted his gaze away from hers. "I am grateful. I just do not understand" then again, she could not answer why she had dragged him from the battlefield and tended to his injury. A thought was growing in the back of her mind, maybe it was the fever, or maybe she had truly gone mad. She took as deep a breath as her sore chest would allow and reached out to take his hand in hers.

He did not move, although his eyes narrowed. She closed her eyes and placed his knuckles on her lips, brushing them against his rough skin.  
"Is this why?" she looked up at him again. His eyes where burning, his breathing heavy. Carefully, wary of his reaction, she spoke his name. "Maghûr"

He was over her in seconds, growling like a beast, pinning her down. The bed creaked in protest from the sudden increase in weight. Pain shot out from her wounds, and she could feel blood starting to trickle down her chest. She whimpered in agony.

Maghûr felt like he was on fire, he threw the blanket off her, revealing the bare skin underneath. His hands were everywhere, the buttons in the side of her skirt sprung from their seam as he ripped at the fabric. He looked up and saw streaks of blood coming from Elinoire's bandages, pooling in her bellybutton and running down her sides. His growling silenced and he could hear her whimper, tears streaming from her eyes. Suddenly he felt cold, as if ice had replaced the fire in him.

"I am causing you pain" Elinoire looked through tears down at the Uruk-hai crouching like an animal over her legs.  
"Yes" she struggled to keep her voice even. She felt guilty and ashamed for knowingly provoking him, in part; the pain she now felt was self-inflicted. What had she expected to happen?  
"I do not want to cause you pain" his fingers followed the trickle of blood up to their source, his forehead wrinkled.  
"You have no fault in this" the shame of her own feelings made her feverish cheeks turn even redder.  
"I killed the warg and its rider" his snarled at the mention of it, his eyes fixed on the streaks of blood on her skin.  
"Yes, thank youooh…" she drew her breath in surprise as he lowered his head and licked the blood of her in one long motion. His tongue was rough as he followed every streak of blood from the side of her hips up to the bandages on her chest.

The blood of man usually made Maghûr crazed with the lust for slaughter, the smell of it being enough to send him into madness. The taste of man-flesh the only thing that would satisfy him. However, the lust he felt now was different, the taste of her reigniting the fire in him. He felt her hand in his hair, her fingers cautiously moving along his scalp, brushing against the points on his elven like ears.

The pain in Elinoire's wounds was reduced to a dull throbbing, the sensation of Maghûr's tongue on her skin filling most of her senses. Her mind was in turmoil, her consciousness going in one direction, her feelings in another. Unholy was the word she had used by the rock, the gods where surly looking at her in disgust, her place in their halls forever revoked. His tongue reached the top of her bare chest, her nipple hardening against it. She could feel him grin as she moaned, his hips on top of hers. She lifted her knees, her skirt falling around her thigs, allowing him to press down further. He scraped his teeth along her neck, making her moan again.

Her moans made Maghûr brutal; he bit her neck, forcing his hands around her to feel as much of her body against his as possible. The stabbing pain in her shoulder and chest came back with full force, making her cry out in agony. He rolled back onto the floor, eyes wide and all his muscles tense as he watched her curl up on her side facing him. Her hand was against his bite on her neck, blood coming through her fingers. Her face drawn in a grimace of pain, her body shaking as she tried to control her own breathing.

Uncontrollable rage filled Maghûr. A frustrated roar filled the room as he hurled the stool beside him at the rock wall, making it splinter into several pieces. The firewood was next, followed by the buckets of water, the fire dying as he threw one of them in the fireplace. He grabbed his sword, but forgot his remaining armour as he disappeared out the door. Leaving Elinoire alone in the darkness.


	5. Winter

_Winter_

Cold days and nights passed inside Shepherds keep, while all Elinoire could do was to cry and sleep. She expected him to come back, but he did not. The pain in her wounds had dulled quickly and the bite on her neck was shallow. Still she did not move.

She could hear birds outside as a new day dawned, and she knew this dawn to be a turning point. If she did not get up today, she would perish. Although she had accepted death as inevitable a long time ago, she would not go down without a fight.

There was some water left in one of the overturn buckets, which she drank together with some raw carrots. After cleaning out the wet ash and logs in the fireplace, she managed to get a fire going, but it was difficult to do with one arm. Her torn shirt lay under the bed, and she used the remains to make a sling.

Outside the trees of Firien had turned into gold and rust. The hoarfrost made the grass crunch under her feet, the overcast weather hindering the sun from thawing it. She could only manage to carry one bucket a quarter full at the time from the stream, nevertheless she did not stop until she had one full and one quarter full bucket by the fireplace. It took the whole day to clean the keep and wash her bedding. She took breaks all the time, the smallest task leaving her exhausted. The night she spent on her sheep hides by the fireplace, not having any dry bedding to sleep in.

The remaining potatoes and carrots needed to be harvested soon before the ground froze solid around them. However, a whole week passed before she could gather the strength to make the walk. By then she had to make it, there was no more food.

Therefore, by midday one crisp morning, she made her way into the forest, her woven basked under her good arm. Thankfully, the sun had broken through the clouds, warming her face as she walked. Her satchel lay where she had thrown it weeks before by the berry bushes, stained but still intact. The stench of decomposing bodies had almost disappeared, the birds and wolves had done their job well, only hollow carcasses where left now. Elinoire looked towards the stream, remembering how Maghûr had stormed across it to her rescue. It had been the only time she had heard him say her name.

She had longed for him to say it to her by her bedside afterwards, she longed for it still. She trailed her gaze over the horizon, wondering where he had gone. Walking along the narrow path in the forest, she wondered if she was mad for wanting him back. Smiling slightly, she thought she must be the first human to ever long for the return of an Uruk-hai. She did not think he had intentionally caused her pain, and if it had not been for the wounds, she would have wanted him to continue. The thought of his tongue on her body made her shiver.

* * *

Her modest potato field lay in a sunny glade, with six rows of potatoes and two rows of carrots. She had already used one row of potatoes and carrots this autumn, but if she managed her snares well, and maybe caught some fish, she would make it through.  
The sun had begun setting when she finally put the last potatoes in the basket. Only then did she realise her mistake; she could not possibly carry the basket home.

She cursed her own stupidity. She could carry it in portions in her satchel, however night would fall before she could finish. After filling her satchel to the brim, she dragged the basket under a tree, covering it with broken branches. Although she did not believe it would be of much hindrance to deer or other hungry animals, she hoped most of it would be intact when she returned the next morning.

Crouching in the undergrowth, hidden by the thick branches of a young pine tree, a pair of yellow eyes watched her every move.

* * *

Maghûr frowned. She did not look well, her cheeks where hollow, and her eyes seemed sunken in and did not shine as brightly as before. He had been lurking around the edge of the forest ever since he left her. He had not dared going back, afraid he would hurt her again. Something about her made him loose control, he wanted her, wanted her to be _his_. When she had not come out of the keep for several days, he feared she had died and had been on the brink of going back. The joy and relief that filled him when she appeared the first time had no comparison.

Elinoire's weak appearance now that he saw her close disturbed him. He doubted she had been feeding properly. He was close to stepping out from his hiding place and help her, but the memory of her agonised face and bleeding wounds hindered him every time. The only way to be sure he would never cause her pain again was to keep away. Still, he wished to aid her in some way.

Dusk fell as Maghûr went hunting; he needed to find food for her. The fresh tracks of a deer lead him deep into the forest. He could hear the calls of a buck as he crawled through the prickly undergrowth towards his prey. The antlered buck where strutting around a doe, making a show of his skill by jumping up on its hind legs and charging at nearby trees in lack of a better opponent.

Maghûr watched in fascination as the buck mounted the doe, and started to mate with her. The mating itself was over quickly enough, however Maghûr had never seen it before, and as a now familiar fire started to spread through him, he realised what Elinoire made him want for so badly.

* * *

Elinoire rose early the next morning, eager to get back to her basket before all the animals in Firien had a go at it. It was a small comfort that perhaps some of the remaining sheep would have a decent meal from it.

To her astonishment, when she tried to open her door, it would not budge. She tried putting her good shoulder against it, and it did give a little, but whatever blocking it was too heavy for her to manage in her weakened state. After some thinking, she got the broom from its corner. It had a solid shaft and using it as leverage she could open the door just enough to slide out sideways.

"Oh!" her eyes widened in surprise as she looked down at her basket, not a single vegetable seemed to be missing. However, what was truly bewildering was the dead deer beside it. A strong buck, its neck broken by an incredible force.  
"Maghûr" she breathed, because it could not be anyone else. Her eyes darted around, but there was no other trace of him.

From his tree on the edge of the forest, Maghûr smiled as he watched Elinoire examine his gifts. He had brought them during the night, sitting outside her door making sure no animal helped itself to any of it. When dawn came and he heard her start to move, he quickly and silently returned to the shadow of the forest.

However, he realised it had been a mistake to leave them in front of her door, seeing the effort it took her to open it. Later, he also decided it had been a bad idea to gift her a whole deer, as he saw her struggle to skin and prepare the meat with only one useful arm.

The gifts continued with a few days interval for several weeks. Some days it would be rabbits, already skinned with their fur laid out neatly beside them. Other days it would be parts of larger game, but never the whole animal. Elinoire tried her best to catch him in the act, growing more desperate to see him with every passing day. She stayed up all night listening at the door, only to realise he had come and gone without her hearing so much as a footstep.

The night after the first snowfall, she wrapped herself in all the furs and blankets she had and sat on her doorstep all night, but he did not show. As she went inside, cold and tired, she realised that Maghûr did not have anything but his boots and kilt-like leather armour to wear. She looked at his armour hanging over her bedpost and felt incredibly selfish and embarrassed. She had acted so ungrateful, accepting his gifts and giving nothing in return. She quickly set about mending her mistake.

* * *

Maghûr was pleased to see that Elinoire did not sit on her doorstep again. It had forced him to keep away last night, and he worried she would try to do this every night to catch him. He had caught four new rabbits, their fur now white as the falling snow; he thought she would like the white pelts.  
As he snuck up to Shepherds keep, he clenched his teeth together. It took more and more willpower to not open the door and go inside. He imagined her in bed, warm and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to climb on top of her.

As he reached the door, he noticed there was something on her doorstep. Careful not to make any sound, he put the rabbits down in the snow and examined the bundle. It was a blanket, and inside where three sheep hides sewn together to make a short cape, with two strings to tie it together over the chest. Underneath lay his armour, he felt for the hole where the rohirim's sword had cut him and discovered that she had mended it with a piece of leather.

Maghûr felt a warmth spreading in his chest as he held her gift. He lifted the blanket to his nose and let her scent fill his lungs; realising just how much he had missed it. He sat with his back against the door for a while, feeling the warmth coming from inside. Concentrating, he could hear her steady breathing, and sometimes a faint ruffle of sheets and blankets as she moved in her sleep. It was nearly dawn when he left, the clear sky bared warning of a cold day ahead.

* * *

Elinoire ran with an excitement she had not felt in months. It had not snowed this morning! Maghûr's large footprints where distinct in the snow leading up to the forest. Cold wind stung her face and ears as she drew closer to the trees, but she did not care. Around her the sun had risen, filling the day with its pale yellow rays, not able to provide any warmth.

His footprints came to an abrupt halt behind the edge of the forest. _He must have climbed a tree_ , she thought to herself. Searching every tree around her, she finally saw a branch where the snow had been disturbed. Then another, and another. She followed the snowless branches further into the forest, until they suddenly stopped as well.

"Maghûr!" her voice echoed, scaring a flock of birds from a nearby tree. She ran back her own tracks, never taking her eyes from the trees. He had to be in one of them, he had to! She yelled his name again, kicking an innocent tree in frustration, causing a heap of snow to fall down her neck.

This was futile. She was trying to hunt an Uruk-hai that clearly did not wish to be found. She stood in thought for a while, feeling the snow melt down her back.

"Why!?" She suddenly yelled at the treetops. "Why will you not let me find you?" she kicked the tree again.  
"You said you did not wish for my death, still you left me alone when I was hurt" angry tears filled her eyes. "I needed you!" she was screaming now. "I needed you, and you left!"

"I saved your life! I was scared, but I stayed because you needed me!"

The forest replied with a deafening silence, she suddenly felt alone in the world. She walked defeated back along her own tracks, realising she was lucky it had not snowed since she had no idea where in the forest she was.

Maghûr sat motionless in a pine tree, his heart was racing in his chest. Her words rang in his ears; she had needed him, and he had abandoned her like a coward.

That night the Mering froze over, leaving it to run through the white earth like a grey vein.


	6. Return

**I am sorry for the long wait, but my writing process stalled, and I could not find a good way to end this story. I decided to post this ending anyway, because I hate leaving things unfinished. I will rather come back and edit the story on a later date if need be.**

* * *

The sound of metal against ice filled the cold morning. Elinoire was driving her axe into the stream, struggling to make a hole big enough for her water buckets. She felt angry and defeated, cursing herself for being so naïve and stupid! Running into the forest after an Uruk-hai, wanting him to come back to her, and then what did she expect to happen? Groaning, she stretched her aching back, her eyes scanning the forest to her right.

Maybe she just wanted company, any company. She had not met anyone else for nearly five months, was it possible she had grown so lonely that any company would do? However, she doubted it, the way she missed him, she had missed no one else before. The ripples of emotions that run through her body at the thought of him confirmed that. If she never saw him again, she would most likely survive the winter because of him, and not only because of the meat he provided, but because she wanted to survive again. Before she had gone on as a sense of duty, not wanting to end her own life, but not having any good reason to live either. Now she wanted live.

* * *

Maghûr could not feel his fists anymore, pounding them into the ice with great force. His sword would have been more efficient, but breaking through the thick ice with his bare knuckles was far more satisfying. He welcomed the pain, and later the numbness. Forgetting, or forgoing, his wish to be quiet and unnoticed, the dull sound of his fists resulted in a loud cracking noise as the ice broke in to several pieces. Behind him, the door to the keep creaked open on old hinges. He swiftly fell flat on his stomach in the snow, partially hidden by the small flat boulder where Elinoire used to sit peeling her potatoes.

"Maghûr?" Elinoire strained her eyes, but she could not see anything outside the semicircle of light from the open door. A thigh of a deer, neatly severed and put down on its skinned hide, lay by her doorstep. Clear evidence that he had just been there.

"If you are there, please come inside" nothing but silence and the steady flow of the stream clucking under its icy layer filled the night. Deciding to try a new tactic, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders, and sat down by the fresh kill at her door.

"Thank you for caring for me, for the meat" her voice turned into a white mist in the cold starless night.  
"I have thought much about the day you left; if you left because you thought you would cause me pain, know that I am suffering more without you"  
"I know it is foolish of me, but I miss you" she leaned her head against the cold stone behind her, mustering the courage to continue. "I need you" she flushed by her own words, knowing she would not have been able to say them to his face. "I want you to hold me. I want… I do not want to be without you" She closed her eyes and waited, hoping she would hear footsteps coming towards her.

Maghûr lay motionless in the snow, only a few feet away from her. Her words where spreading inside him like warm water. She sat by her door looking up at the sky for a while, before closing her eyes and quickly getting up and back inside. He did not dare to move. He wanted to follow her inside more than anything, but he was unsure of what he would do if he did. He knew what he wanted, he suspected she wanted the same, but he could not be sure, not after the way he had hurt her last time.

Elinoire flung the buck leg on the benchtop with a large thud before wiping a few tears away with the back of her hand. There was no comfort in tears; they just made her even more frustrated.

The sound of the door creaking open behind her made her whirl around, her heart in her throat as she lay her eyes on the intruder. The Uruk-hai was so tall he had too duck down under the doorframe, his shoulders as wide as the door itself. He was wearing the sheep hides she had put out for him over his mended armour, his knuckles full of cuts and bruises after hammering them through the ice.

Elinoire stood frozen; her eyes wide and green on his face. For a moment, Maghûr had half a mind to turn around and leave, but Elinoire flung herself at him before he could do anything else.

With an unstoppable stream of tears down her cheeks, Elinoire pressed her face against the cold armour on his chest, her arms reaching around his back and holding him as tight as she could. After some hesitation, Maghûr returned the embrace, lowering his head to breathe in the scent of firewood and clean air from her hair.

This felt good. He had no urge to harm her, his breathing deepened as he closed his eyes and enjoyed feeling her in his arms. They held the embrace until freezing air made Elinoire brake away to close the door, still open to the cold night.

"You came back" Elinoire's face was red and swollen from the crying, but a smile lit up her eyes.  
"I was never far" Maghûr said apologetically. "I always watched over you, made sure you were safe, and that you fed" he nodded towards the meat behind them. His gaze was intense as usual, but he had something mild about his expression. She smiled and wiped her tears away again.

"I know, thank you" she reached down and took both his large hands in hers, holding his bruised knuckles to her lips. "Thank you" she whispered again as she softly kissed each knuckle, where some of his cuts still bleeding.

Maghûr stood hesitantly as he watched her press her soft lips against his hands. He drew a sharp breath through his teeth, remembering what he had done last time she put her lips to his knuckles. He did not dare move a muscle, not wanting to cause her pain again. Reaching his last knuckle, Elinoire met his gaze and he nearly forgot himself. Dark blood, _his_ _blood,_ stained her soft lips and light skin. He growled, feeling his desire rise at the sight, but managed to restrain himself.

Seeing him staring at her lips, but her hands otherwise occupied, Elinoire reached out the tip of her tongue and licked her upper lip. A sharp metallic flavour filled her mouth.

Maghûr lost all control. His chest rumbled as he flung her against the door, pinning her in place with his body, her feet dangling several inches of the floor. The impact nearly made Elinoire loose her breath. They now were at eye level with each other, and before he could do anything else, Elinoire kissed him passionately.

The gesture caught him of guard, and he stopped, his hands gripping her waist to hold her in place. Elinoire parted her lips slightly, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, almost biting it, before kissing him again. She could not believe she dared, but she felt bold. The feeling of his body against hers made a familiar heat grow inside her. Her arms was around his neck, holding his head and pressing it against hers. She lifted her knees, locking her ankles around his hips.

Elinoire's responses lifted the initial primal haze away from Maghûr. He begun moving his lips with hers, allowing her tongue to explore whatever she wished. He felt her hands wander over his shoulders, pushing the sheep hides off him and starting to loosen the knots on the side of his armour.

His member was throbbing against her, aching to get to her. He started franticly moving her skirt away, clawing at the fabric of her undergarments. The sound of her clothing ripping made Elinoire stop.

"Wait" she said breathless, gripping his wrists.

He had feared she would come to her senses. She had said herself that she was foolish for wanting him. Everything inside him urged him to ignore her, to continue, to mount her as the buck did the doe in the forest. But he was certain that would hurt her, and he did not want that. Unwillingly he took a small step back, allowing her to stand, but he kept his hands on the door by her sides, caging her in.

With trembling hands, Elinoire loosened the belt around her waist, and let her skirt fall to the floor. Her undergarments followed, leaving only her blouse to cover her. This was the first time she undressed for any man, and she was sure she did not do it with the grace it required. Kicking her skirt and undergarments out of the way, she took a steading breath and lifted her blouse over her head.

"I do not have any other skirts" she apologized feebly, suddenly feeling very naked with him still clothed.

Maghûr looked down at her with a mixture of relief and arousal, if it was at all possible to feel more aroused. His claw- like fingernails was creating grooves in the wooden door by her head as his eyes locked on her scars. Her wounds had healed into four uneven scars running from her left shoulder blade, over her shoulder and arm, all the way down to her breast, almost reaching her nipple. The sight made him want to kill the warg and orc all over again, wishing he had used more time on the orc. He felt incredibly protective of her, more than he ever had before.

"Are you just going to look at me?" She muttered with a shanking voice. She was very aware of how bad her wounds had scarred, and she reached up, trying to cover them.

Maghûr took another deep breath, trying to calm himself, it felt like he was burning up from inside.  
"I will not be able to stop" he breathed.

Feeling her previous boldness return by his statement, Elinoire got up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, feeling him tense up even more.  
"I do not want you to" she whispered. It had the desired effect; in one swift motion, she was back up against the door. A satisfied sigh escaped her, making Maghûr even more crazed. Holding her in place with one hand under her buttocks, he practically ripped his clothes off with the other, leaving only his boots on.

He entered her too fast and hard. The sting of her virginity disappearing made Elinoire wince, but instead of pushing him away, she tighten her grip around him, closing her eyes against his shoulder. After a few strokes, she felt herself mold around him, as if her whole body was going to melt. She let out her breath in surprise, flexing her hips too carefully move with him. Maghûr moved on instinct, engulfed in a red fog. He had never felt this kind of pleasure his entire life; he never wanted to stop.

Elinoire leaned her head back against the door, eyes closed, unable to keep herself from moaning.

Maghûr was close to a release, his eyes fixated on Elinoire, her moans filling his ears. His mouth found her neck, his sharp teeth resting on her skin. It took everything in him to fight the urge to bite, to taste her.

Elinoire felt his teeth on her. A pang of fear shot through her as she understood what he wanted. Quickly, almost without thinking, she tilted her head and bit down into the tense muscle on his neck, nearly drawing blood.

Maghûr roared his release as her small teeth bit down on his shoulder. His whole body was shaking, the red fog blurring his vision completely. He felt his legs giving out under him, and he sank to his knees taking Elinoire with him.

* * *

Elinoire sat straddled in his lap, still feeling him hot inside her. She rested her head against his shoulder, slowly trailing kisses along his neck. Maghûr reached his hand up to her head, his fingers disappearing into her now messy hair.  
"I…" he began, he felt he should say something, but he had no idea of what to say.

Maghûr tightened his arms around her. He had no wish to return to the forest tonight, or any night. He realised that since the day on the rock by the stream he had never once thought to return to his master or to find his own. It was if they were alone in this world, and nothing else existed outside Shepherds keep.

Elinoire had her eyes closed against his shoulder. She had thought she would feel ashamed, she had given her virginity out of wedlock, and it was not even to a man. However, she could not make herself feel ashamed. She lifted her head to look at him, his eyes still burning a dull yellow. She ran her fingertips down his nose and over his lips, letting her thumb rest on one of the sharp fangs in his lower mouth.

"Will you stay?" she asked slowly, looking hopefully into his eyes "At least through the winter?"

"I will stay for as long as you want me too" his voice raspy after his roar. He meant it. He would stay, he would hunt for her and he would keep her warm and safe.

She smiled at him, leaning down to kiss him again. Maghûr quickly rolled her over on her back on the furs by the fireplace, careful not to put too much weight on her. She sighed happily against his mouth, and let him trail his mouth down her neck and chest.

* * *

Maghûr drifted asleep with Elinoire cradled in his arms, her steady breath brushing against his chest and the crackling fire warming his face. For the first time he could remember, he felt completely at peace.


End file.
